


Boys Like To Fetishize Girls Who Wear Neckties

by lone_lilly



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beckett wears a necktie and nothing else. Castle thinks a lot in parentheticals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Like To Fetishize Girls Who Wear Neckties

  


**Title:** Boys Like To Fetishize Girls Who Wear Neckties  
 **Author:** [](http://lone-lilly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lone_lilly**](http://lone-lilly.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **Fandom:** _Castle_  
 **Pairing:** Castle / Beckett  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Summary:** Beckett wears a necktie and nothing else. Castle thinks a lot in parentheticals.  
 **Notes** For the prompts: _Beckett/Castle, necktie, fetish, boots, chair, tongue, on knees_ at the official porn battle [here](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/46205.html?thread=7096701#cmt7096701)

Thanks to [](http://mammothluv.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mammothluv**](http://mammothluv.dreamwidth.org/) for the fantastic beta. Any errors remaining are purely my own!

 

 

 

 

 

Castle unlocks the door to his loft with a sigh. He knows he's pouting (and that it's unattractive and a little unmanly, according to Beckett) but he can't help his disappointment. It's not every weekend his mother convinces his daughter to join a handful of their closest friends at a spa retreat upstate, a graduation present he certainly didn't mind funding, especially if it meant three whole days to enjoy one Detective Katherine Beckett all to himself.

Except the Detective in question had turned him down with a teasing smile and a slightly patronizing pat to his cheek, telling him she had a hot date with a new book and she would see him Sunday. He knew he shouldn't begrudge her time alone. She wasn't a solitary person exactly, but he knew she relished a quiet evening in with a book and a glass of wine more than anything; it's a luxury which is becoming more and more difficult to come by these days. (He proudly admits that's largely his fault.)

It's just, he would happily have her with him all the time if she would allow it. He isn't really wired to need time to himself; he had spent far too much of that growing up to enjoy it now. He loves surrounding himself with his family and friends whether that's poker nights with the writers, movie nights with Alexis, or slinging drinks at the Old Haunt with his gang from the 12th. And Beckett, well. The only thing better than fighting crime beside her every day is sleeping next to her at night. (Okay, there are a few other Beckett-related activities he likes just as much...)

He shuts the door behind him, locking himself in for a weekend of bachelorhood. Tossing his keys on the entry table, he crosses to the kitchen to set his takeout on the counter (Hand-made tamales from that place near the precinct and a bag of limes. Alexis isn't a fan, so he tends to only splurge when she's out). He gets as far as opening the fridge for a beer when he notices his office door is closed.

As a rule, he keeps the office door open unless he's writing (this is meant to suggest to his family to be respectful and quiet while he works, although his mother seems to take it as permission to do the exact opposite) because he wants nothing in his house off limits to his daughter. It's her home, too, of course.

Glancing around the room he confirms what he already knew because he talked to his daughter not a half hour before: his mother and Alexis haven't come home unexpectedly. Nothing seems to be disturbed but this is New York and he does spend his days on ride-alongs with the NYPD. He knows not all break-ins are about petty theft.

Frowning, he does exactly what he's good at: he grabs the nearest kitchen tool he can use as a weapon and makes his way to the office as stealthily as he can. Some would accuse him of rushing head first into things but he'd like to present the ice pick he's wielding as evidence to the contrary. His gun is in the night stand next to his condoms and he isn't going to charge his intruder without protection (that's what she said).

Bracing himself, he reaches for the door knob and turns, kicking the door open with his foot as he raises the ice pick in the air, poised to strike.

"Freeze!"

~

"Not my first choice for a sexual aide, Castle, " Kate Beckett says dryly from where she's sitting in his office chair, her legs crossed at the knees and her hands folded over the ends of the arm rests. "But I'm willing to see what you have planned."

He blinks at her stupidly until she smirks and nods at the ice pick he's still brandishing over her like some sort of Hitchcockian villain. Oh, right. He drops it and clears his throat.

"You're naked."

She looks down at herself with a thoughtful expression and slips her finger underneath the necktie she's wearing, flipping it up a little. They both watch as it settles again between her very bare breasts. "Not entirely."

Still. A tie hardly counts as clothing if that's all one is wearing. Not that he's complaining. He's always been a big fan of her fashion decisions. "And you're here."

She rolls her eyes. "It really is a wonder we don't solve more cases with you investigating."

She shifts in his chair (She is so naked. In his desk chair. Has he mentioned that? He's never going to be able to concentrate there again), one leg sliding out until her ankle is resting on her knee instead. It's a familiar pose he's seen her strike at work more than once. Usually, it doesn't allow him such an excellent view of her... _inner_ Beckett though.

His gaze flicks downward and takes its time moving back up to her face. She lets him look at his leisure, waiting patiently for him to get his fill. Not that it's possible.

"I thought you had hot and heavy plans with one of your favorite authors tonight?"

"Oh, I still do," she nods, her eyes twinkling. "Lehane told me to come over later."

"I walked right into that one," he sighs. "Minx."

She gives him a dazzling grin, one he's still getting used to finding on her face and twirls her tie around her finger. He feels himself pulled forward like a marionette; each hook of her finger around the silk bringing him closer until he's right in front of her.

Her legs part, feet planting squarely on the rug underneath his desk, and she cants her hips to the edge of his chair. It's an invitation if he ever saw one and he drops to his knees in front of her, his palms spreading her legs even farther before placing her foot on his thigh. Her toes curl as his thumbs dig into the tendons in her arch, massaging away a week's stress of chasing down perps in four inch heels.

"Mm, Castle," she sighs and stretches her other leg over his shoulder, hooking it against his back and urging him even closer. "You can satisfy your foot fetish later."

"Promise?" he murmurs against the inside of her knee, his tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin there. She went home and showered first; he can taste the lotion she uses afterward. He spears the crease behind her knee suggestively, seeking more of that bitter, soapy flavor.

"This first," she says and it sounds more like an order than a promise but he's willing to read into it. "And I'll let you put my boots on for me all week."

"And what was _this_ again?" he glances up at her innocently as he slips his arm under her other leg, bringing it up over his shoulder to match her first one. His fingers dance over her thighs, down to where she's waxed bare for him (he's assuming; he doesn't think she was serious about that Lehane bit) and back up her silken skin to her knees.

She fixes him with a stare, the intimidation she's aiming for greatly lessened by the hooded desire in her gaze. "I want your mouth on me."

"Where?" he teases and nips at her thigh, sucking the tight skin between his teeth. His tongue makes a deliberately slow swipe along the abrasion and she shudders. "There?"

"Or here," she offers and her long fingers leave the arm rest to curl over her sex, pressing inward briefly, dragging her slick arousal up. She makes herself sigh and his mouth waters.

"Oh, here," he agrees amiably and nudges her hand out of the way. His thumbs part her folds, then stroke her, grazing the sides of her clit as he watches her reaction. (She doesn't disappoint him, squirming under his inspection.) "Excellent suggestion."

She slides her fingers through his hair, gripping insistently as she tries to force him down to where she wants him. "Castle, your mouth."

He knows that tone and he's not ashamed to admit it makes his dick throb, although he's not entirely willing to push her into making good on her unspoken threat. Blowing lightly on the little knot of nerve endings nestled above her entrance, he presses his face into her sex and inhales the scent of her arousal, nuzzles her clitoris with his nose and then drags his tongue along her slit with one bold stroke.

"Ooh," she sighs her approval.

"You're so wet already," he sighs happily and licks her again, bathing her with his tongue, his mouth. He nibbles on the edges of her labia, teeth grazing lightly as he sucks.

"I've wanted you all da--," she breaks off on a moan as he plunges his tongue deep inside her and she pushes her hips forward even more, slinging her free hand over the back of the chair as she arches into him. "Oh, God, Castle, right there."

Oh. So no Lehane then. He feels his cock swell at her admission and he growls softly, his fingers digging into her thighs, "Be still."

She doesn't but he holds her down anyway so he can fuck her cunt (--pussy, snatch, twat, vagina. There are a lot of ridiculous words to describe it but he's partial to cunt. Makes him think of a melon. A really exotic melon) with his tongue. Her hips rock against his mouth impatiently while her heels dig into his back, and he can hear her fingernails scratching up the leather on the back of his chair (he's not sure how he'll be able to hide that from Alexis later) as she tries to hold on.

They've only been seeing each other for a few months but he's confident enough in his own skills to guess that means she's pretty close to coming.

He risks contusing his nose (It's a small sacrifice. He'll tell everyone it's a sports injury and watch her closely to see if she blushes) and releases his hold on her leg so he can thumb her clit, letting the momentum she's built with her hips do most of the work.

Here's a secret about Kate Beckett: when she's close, really close as in keep going or she'll suffocate you with the strength of her thighs like Famke Janssen's character in _Goldeneye_ , she makes this little humming sound in her throat. It could even be likened to a purr but he hasn't had the balls to point that out yet. It's _adorable_. And super hot.

He gets her to make that sound now, all nonsensical keening that quickens with every thrust of his tongue inside her until the pressure building within her finally snaps. Her body jerks into a taut arch and she kicks him in the shoulder blade as the convulsions begin, chanting, "Fuck, Castle!" as she comes all over his mouth.

Well, then.

He rides the orgasm out with her, licking her clean as her body spasms in his chair (seriously, he's never throwing this chair out) until her fingers loosen their hold around his scalp and she deflates underneath him.

"Okay," he enthuses a moment later, sitting back on his heels. "That was _awesome_!"

She cracks her eyes open to look at him and he catches the slight grin on her face before she slips her legs over his shoulders (he's a little proud to see they're still shaking) and pushes herself up from his chair.

"So, what did you bring home for dinner? I'm starving."

She tries to step around him but he's too quick (okay, she probably wasn't trying that hard) and he's on his feet in a flash, ignoring the way his knees protest with a pop as he reaches for the end of her tie, halting her.

"Oh, no you don't," he warns, tugging on the tie like a leash (mm, Beckett on a leash. That's a little bit hotter than even he can handle) until she's between him and the desk. She looks up at him innocently and he lifts her up on the desk so he can step between her legs, his hands fumbling with his belt.

"We are _not_ done here."


End file.
